The King Beyond the Gate

16

Scaler, Belder and Pagan lay on their bellies overlooking the Drenai camp. There were twenty soldiers sitting around five camp-fires. The prisoners sat back-to-back at the centre of the camp and sentries patrolled near them.

'Are you sure this is necessary?' asked Belder.

'It is,' Scaler told him. 'If we rescue two Sathuli warriors, it will give us a great advantage in seeking aid from the tribesmen.'

'They look too well-guarded to me,' muttered the older man.

'I agree,' said Pagan. 'There is one guard within ten paces of the prisoners. Two others patrol the edge of the trees and a fourth has positioned himself in the forest.'

'Could you find him?'

Pagan grinned. 'Of course. But what of the other three?'

'Find the one in the forest and bring me his armour,' said Scaler.

Pagan slipped away and Belder slithered across to lie beside Scaler. 'You're not going down there?'

'Of course. It's a deception — that's something I am good at.'

'You won't be able to pull it off. We shall be taken.'

'Please, Belder, no morale-boosting speeches — you will make me conceited.'

'Well, I'm not going down there.'

'I don't recall asking you.'

It was almost half an hour before Pagan returned. He was carrying the sentry's clothes wrapped in the man's red cloak.

'I hid the body as best I could,' he said. 'How soon will they change the guards?'

'An hour — maybe a little less,' said Belder. "There's not enough time.'

Scaler opened the bundle, examined the contents and then buckled on the breastplate. It was a poor fit but better too large than too small, he thought.

'How do I look? he asked, placing the plumed helm upon his head.

'Ridiculous,' said Belder. 'You won't fool them for a minute.'

'Old man,' hissed Pagan, 'you are a pain in the ears! We have only been together three days and already I am sick of you. Now close your mouth.'

Belder was about to whisper a cutting reply, but the look in the black man's eyes stopped him dead. The man was ready to kill him! His blood froze and he turned away.

'What is your plan?' asked Pagan.

'There are three guards, but only one near the prisoners. I intend to relieve him.'

'And the other two?'

'That's as far as I have worked it out.'

'It is a beginning,' said Pagan. 'If the first part works, and the man takes to his blankets, move across to the other two. Keep your knife handy and make your move when I make mine.'

Scaler licked his lips. Keep your knife handy? He wasn't sure he would have the nerve to plunge the blade into someone's body.

Together the two men crept through the undergrowth towards the camp. The moon was bright, but the occasional cloud masked it, plunging the clearing into darkness. The fires had burned low and the warriors were sleeping soundly.

Pagan put his mouth close to Scaler's ear and whispered: 'It's about ten paces to the first sleeping soldier. The next time a cloud passes the moon, move forward and lie down. When the clouds clear, sit up and stretch. Make sure the sentry sees you.' Scaler nodded.

Minutes passed in silent tension until at last darkness fell once more. Immediately Scaler was up and moving, hitting the ground just as the moon shone clear again.

He sat up and stretched his arms wide, waving to the sentry. Then he stood, looked around and gathered up a lance from beside a sleeping warrior. Taking a deep breath he walked across the clearing, yawning.

'Couldn't sleep,' he told the man. 'Ground is damp.'

'You should try standing here for a while,' grumbled the sentry.

'Why not?' offered Scaler. 'Go on — get some sleep. I'll take the watch.'

'Mighty large of you,' said the man. Tm due to be relieved soon.'

'Your choice,' said Scaler, yawning once more.

'I haven't seen you before,' said the man. 'Who are you with?'

Scaler grinned. 'Picture a man with the face of a pig with warts, and the brain of a retarded pigeon.'

'Dun Gideus,' said the man. 'Bad luck!'

'I've known worse,' commented Scaler.

'I've not,' said the man. 'I think there's a special place where they breed the fools. I mean — why attack the Sathuli? As if there are not enough pox-ridden problems in the Skoda. Baffles me!'

'Me too,' said Scaler. 'Still, as long as the pay comes through. .'

'You had yours then? I've been waiting four months,' said the man, outraged.

'It was a joke,' said Scaler. 'Of course I haven't!'

'Don't joke about that, man. There's enough trouble brewing as it is.'

A second sentry joined them. 'Cal, is that the relief?'

'No, he just couldn't sleep.'

'Well, I'm going to wake them up. I've had enough of standing around,' said the second soldier.

'Don't be a fool,' advised the first. 'You wake up Gideus and we'll be for a flogging!'

'Why don't you go off and get some rest?' offered Scaler. 'I can stand watch — I'm wide awake.'

'Damn it, I think I will,' said the first man. 'I'm dead on my feet. Thanks, friend,' he said, clapping Scaler on the shoulder before wandering away to lie down with the others.

'If you want to put your head down in the forest, I'll wake you when I see the relief getting ready,' suggested Scaler.

'No, thanks anyway. The last time a watchman was found asleep, Gideus had him hanged. Bastard! I won't take that risk.'

'Whatever you like,' said Scaler indifferently, his heart hammering.

'Bastards have cancelled leave again,' said the sentry. 'I haven't seen my wife and youngsters in four months.' Scaler eased his knife into his hand. 'Farm's not doing too well. Bastard taxes! Still, at least I'm alive, I suppose.'

'Yes, that's something,' agreed Scaler.

'Life's a pig, isn't it? Any time now they're going to send us into the Skoda, killing a few more of our own. Life's a pig and no mistake!'

'Yes.' Holding the knife behind his back, Scaler adjusted his grip, ready to hammer the blade into the man's throat.

Suddenly the man swore. 'I will take you up on that offer,' he said. 'This is the third night they've put me on watch. But promise you'll wake me?'

'I promise,' said Scaler, relief washing over him.

But then Pagan moved from the shadow, whipping his knife across the other sentry's throat. Scaler reacted instantly — his own blade slashing upwards, entering the man's neck under the jaw-line and plunging on into the brain. He sank without a sound, but Scaler caught the look in his eyes as he died and looked away.

Pagan ran across to him. 'Good work. Let's free the prisoners and get away from here.'

'He was a good man,' whispered Scaler.

Pagan gripped him by the shoulders. 'There are a lot of good men dead in Skoda. Get a hold. . Let's move.'

The two prisoners had watched the killings in silence. Both wore the robes of Sathuli tribesmen and had their faces part hidden by flowing burnooses. Pagan moved to them, his knife slashing through their bonds; Scaler joined them, kneeling by the first warrior as the man pulled the burnoose sash from his face and took a deep breath. His face was strong and dark, a curved nose above a full black beard; his eyes were deep-set and seemingly black in the moonlight.

'Why?' he said.

'We'll talk later,' said Scaler. 'Our horses are over there. Move quietly.'

The two Sathuli followed as they moved into the darkness of the forest. Minutes later they found Belder and the mounts.

'Now tell me why,' repeated the Sathuli.

'I want you to take me to your camp. I need to speak to the Sathuli.'

'You have nothing to say to which we would listen.'

'You cannot know that,' said Scaler.

'I know that you are Drenai and that is enough.'

'You know nothing,' said Scaler, lifting the helm from his head and hurling it into the undergrowth. 'But I will not argue with you now. Get on a horse and take me to your people.'

'Why should I?'

'Because of who I am. You owe me a debt.'

'I owe you nothing. I did not ask to be freed.'

'Not that debt. Listen to me, child of man! I have returned from the Mountains of the Dead, across the mists of the centuries. Look in my eyes. Can you see the horrors of Sheol? I dined there with Joachim, the greatest of Sathuli princes. You will take me into the mountains and let your leader decide. By the soul of Joachim, you owe me that much!'

'It is easy to speak of the great Joachim,' said the man uneasily, 'since he has been dead more than one hundred years.'

'He is not dead,' said Scaler. 'His spirit lives and it is sickened by Sathuli cowardice. He asked me to give you a chance to redeem yourselves — but it is up to you.'

'And who do you say you are?'

'You will find my likeness in your burial chambers, standing beside Joachim. Look at my face, man, and tell me who I am.'

The Sathuli licked his lips, uncertain and yet filled with superstitious fear.

'You are the Earl of Bronze?'

'I am Regnak, the Earl of Bronze. Now take me into the mountains!'

They rode through the night, cutting left into the Delnoch range and up through many passes, winding into the heart of the mountains. Four times they were intercepted by Sathuli scouts, but always they were allowed on. At last, as the morning sun reached the heights of midday, they rode into the inner city — a thousand white stone buildings filling the bowl of a hidden valley. Only one building stood higher than a single storey and this was the palace of Sathuli.

Scaler had never been here. Few Drenai had. Children gathered to watch them pass and as they approached the palace some fifty white-robed warriors carrying curved tulwars joined them, lining up on either side. At the palace gates a man waited, arms folded across his chest. He was tall and broad-shouldered and his face was proud.

Scaler halted his horse before the gates and waited. The man unfolded his arms and walked forward, dark brown eyes fixed firmly on Scaler's.

'You say you are a dead man?' asked the Sathuli. Scaler waited, saying nothing. 'If that is so, you will not mind if I pass my sword through your body?'

'I can die like any man,' said Scaler. 'I did it once before. But you will not kill me, so let us stop playing these games. Obey your own laws of hospitality and offer us food.'

'You play your part well, Earl of Bronze. Dismount and follow me.'

He led them to the west wing of the palace and left them to bathe in a huge marble bath, attended by male servants who sprinkled perfumes into the water. Belder said nothing.

'We cannot tarry here too long, Lord Earl,' said Pagan. 'How much time will you give them?'

'I have not decided yet.'

Pagan eased back his giant frame into the warm water, ducking his head below the surface. Scaler summoned a servant and asked for soap. The man bowed and backed away, returning with a crystal jar. Scaler poured the contents on his head and washed his hair; then he called for a razor and a glass and shaved his chin. He was tired, but he felt more human for the bath. As he mounted the marble steps, a servant ran forward with a towelling robe which he placed over Scaler's shoulders. Then he led him to a bedchamber, where Scaler found his clothes had been brushed clean. Taking a fresh shirt from his saddlebag, he dressed swiftly, combing his hair and placing his headband carefully over his brow. Then on impulse he removed the leather band and searched his saddlebag to find the silver circlet with the opal centrepiece. He settled it into place and another servant brought him a mirror. He thanked the man, noting with satisfaction the awe in the tribesman's eyes.

Lifting the mirror, he gazed at himself.

Could he pass himself off as Rek, the Warrior Earl?

Pagan had given him the idea when he said that men were always willing to believe that other men were stronger, faster, more capable than themselves. It was all a matter of portrayal. He had said that Scaler could appear to be a prince, an assassin, a general.

Then why not a dead hero?

After all, who could prove otherwise?

Scaler left the room; a tribesman carrying a spear bowed and requested him to follow. The man led him to a wide chamber in which sat the young man from the gates, the two Sathuli he had rescued and an old man in robes of faded brown.

'Welcome,' said the Sathuli leader. 'I have someone here who is anxious to meet you.' He pointed to the old man. 'This is Raffir, a holy man. He is of the line of Joachim Sathuli, and a great student of history. He has many questions concerning the siege of Dros Delnoch.'

'I will be happy to answer his questions.'

'I am sure you will. He also has another talent we find of use — he speaks with the spirits of the dead. Tonight he will enter into a trance and you will be delighted, I am sure, to attend.'

'Of course.'

'For myself,' said the Sathuli, 'I am looking forward to it. I have listened to Kaffir's spirit voice many times and often questioned him. But to have the privilege of bringing together such friends. . well, I feel great pride.'

'Speak plainly, Sathuli!' said Scaler. 'I am in no mood for children's games.'

'A thousand apologies, noble guest. I was merely trying to tell you that Kaffir's spirit guide is none other than your friend, the great Joachim. I shall be fascinated to listen to your conversation.'

'Stop panicking!' said Pagan as Scaler paced the room. The servants had been dismissed and Belder, dismayed at the news, was strolling in the rose garden below.

'There is a time for panic,' said Scaler, 'when all else fails. Well, it has — so I'm panicking.'

'Are you sure the old man is genuine?'

'What difference does it make? If he is a fake, he will have been schooled by the prince to deny me. If he is genuine, the spirit of Joachim will deny me. There is no way round it!'

'You could denounce the old man as a fake,' offered Pagan, without conviction.

'Denounce their holy man in their own temple? I don't think so. It stretches the laws of hospitality to breaking point.'

'I hate to sound like Belder, but this was your idea. You really should have thought it through.'

'I hate you sounding like Belder.'

'Will you stop that pacing? Here, have some fruit.' Pagan tossed an apple across the room but Scaler dropped it.

The door opened and Belder entered. 'It's a real mess and no mistake,' he said glumly.

Scaler sank into a wide leather chair. 'It should be quite a night.'

'Are we allowed to go armed?' asked Pagan.

'If you like,' said Belder, 'though I cannot see even you fighting your way through a thousand Sathuli!'

'I don't want to die without a weapon in my hand.'

'Bravely spoken!' said Scaler. 'I will take this apple. I don't want to die without a piece of fruit in my hand. Will you put a stop to this talk of dying? It's extremely unsettling!'

The conversation struggled on pointlessly until a servant tapped on the door, entered and requested them to follow him. Scaler asked the man to wait while he moved to the full-length mirror on the far wall and gazed at his reflection; he was surprised to find himself smiling. He swung his cloak over his shoulder dramatically and adjusted the opal headband on his brow.

'Stay with me, Rek,' he said. 'I shall need all the help there is.'

The trio followed the servant through the palace until they reached the porch to the temple, where the man bowed and backed away. Scaler walked on into the cool shadows and out into the temple proper. Seats on all sides were filled with silent tribesmen, while the prince and Raffir sat side by side on a raised dais. A third chair was placed at Raffir's right. Scaler drew himself upright and marched down the aisle, removing his cloak and settling it carefully over the back of his chair.

The prince stood and bowed to Scaler. There was, Scaler thought, a malevolent gleam in his dark eyes.

'I welcome our noble guest here this evening. No Drenai has ever stood in this temple. But this man claims to be the Nadir Bane, the living spirit of the Earl of Bronze, brother in blood to the great Joachim. Therefore it is fitting that he should meet Joachim again in this holy place.

'Peace be on your souls, brothers, and let your hearts open to the music of the Void. Let Raffir commune with the darkness. .'

Scaler shivered as the vast congregation bowed their heads. Raffir leaned back in his seat; his eyes opened wide and then rolled back under the sockets. Scaler began to feel sick.

'I call upon you, spirit friend!' shouted Raffir, his voice high-pitched and quavering. 'Come to us from the holy place. Give us of your wisdom.'

The candles in the temple guttered suddenly, as if a breeze had sprung up in the midst of the building.

'Come to us, spirit friend! Lead us.'

Once more the candle-flames danced — and this time many went out. Scaler licked his lips; Raffir was no fake.

'Who calls Joachim Sathuli?' boomed a voice, deep and resonant. Scaler started in his seat, for the voice came from the scrawny throat of Kaffir.

'Blood of your blood calls upon you, great Joachim,' said the prince. 'I have here a man who claims to be your friend.'

'Let him speak then,' said the spirit, 'for I have heard too often your whining voice.'

'Speak!' ordered the prince, turning on Scaler. 'You heard the command.'

'You do not command me, wretch!' snapped Scaler. 'I am Rek, the Earl of Bronze, and I lived in a day when the Sathuli were men. Joachim was a man — and my brother. Tell me, Joachim, how do you like these sons of your sons?'

'Rek? I cannot see. Is it you?'

'It is I, brother. Here among these shadows of you. Why could you not be here with me?'

'I cannot tell… So much time. Rek! Our first meeting. You remember your words?'

'I do. "And what is your life worth, Joachim?" And you answered, "A broken sword." '

'Yes, yes, I remember. But at the last, the words of importance. The words that brought me to Dros Delnoch.'

'I was riding towards death at the fortress and I told you so. Then I said, "Before me I have nothing but enemies and war. I would like to think I have left at least a few friends behind me." I asked you to take my hand as a friend.'

'Rek, it is you! My brother! How is it you enjoy the life of blood once more?'

'The world has not changed, Joachim. Still evil rises like pus in a boil. I fight a war without allies and with few friends. I came to the Sathuli, as I did in the past.'

'What do you need, my brother?'

'I need men.'

'The Sathuli will not follow you. Nor should they. I loved you, Rek, for you were a great man. But it would be an obscenity for a Drenai to lead the chosen tribe. You must be desperate even to ask. But in your great need I offer you the Cheiam to use as you will. Oh Rek, my brother, would that I could walk beside you once more, tulwar in hand! I can still see the Nadir breasting the last wall, hear their cries of hatred. We were men, were we not?'

'We were men,' said Scaler. 'Even with the wound in your side, you were mighty.'

'My people fare badly now, Rek. Sheep led by goats. Use the Cheiam well. And may the Lord of All Things bless you.'

Scaler swallowed hard. 'Has he blessed you, my friend?'

'I have what I deserve. Goodbye, my brother.'

A terrible sadness overcame Scaler and he sank to his knees, tears coursing his cheeks. He tried to stifle the sobs but they forced their way through as Pagan ran to him, pulling him to his feet.

'So much sorrow in his voice,' said Scaler. 'Take me away from here.'

'Wait!' ordered the prince. 'The ceremony is not yet over.'

But Pagan ignored him and half-carried the weeping Scaler from the temple. Not one Sathuli barred his path as the trio returned to their rooms. There Pagan helped Scaler to a wide satin-covered bed and fetched him water from a stone jug; it was cool and sweet.

'Have you ever heard such sadness?' Scaler asked him.

'No,' admitted Pagan. 'It made me value life. How did you do it? By all the gods, it was a performance unparalleled.'

'It was merely another deception. And it made me sick! What skill is there in deceiving a tormented, blind spirit? Gods, Pagan, he's been dead for over a hundred years. He and Rek met very rarely after the battle — they were of two different cultures.'

'But you knew all the words. .'

'The Earl's diaries. No more, no less. I am a student of history. They met when the Sathuli ambushed my ancestor and Rek took on Joachim in single combat. They fought for an age and then Joachim's sword snapped. But Rek spared him and it was the start of their friendship.'

'You have chosen a difficult part to play. You are no swordsman.'

'No, I don't need to be. The act is enough. I think I will sleep now. Gods, I'm tired. . and so damned ashamed.'

'You have no reason to feel shame. But tell me, what are the Cheiam?'

'The sons of Joachim. It is a cult, I think; I'm not sure. Let me sleep now.'

'Rest well, Rek, you have earned it.'

'There is no need to use the name in private.'

'There is every reason — we must all live the part from now on. I don't know anything about your ancestor, but I think he would have been proud of you. It took iron nerve to go through that.'

But Scaler missed the compliment, for he had fallen asleep.

Pagan returned to the outer room.

'How is he?' asked Belder.

'He is all right. But a word of advice for you, old man: no more cutting remarks! From now on he is the Earl of Bronze and will be treated as such.'

'How little you know, black man!' snapped Belder. 'He is not playing a role, he is the Earl of Bronze. By right and by blood. He thinks he is playing a part. Well, let him. What you see now is the reality. It was always there — I knew it. That was what made me so bitter. Cutting remarks? I am proud of the boy — so proud I could sing!'

'Well, don't,' said Pagan, grinning. 'You have the voice of a sick hyena!'

Scaler was wakened by a rough hand clamping over his mouth. It was not a pleasant awakening. The moonlight made a silver beam through the open window and the breeze billowed the curtain of lace. But the man leaning over his bed was in silhouette.

'Do not make a sound,' warned a voice. 'You are in great danger!' He removed his hand and sat down on the bed.

Scaler sat up slowly. 'Danger?' he whispered.

'The prince has ordered your death.'

'Nice!'

'I am here to help you.'

'I am glad to hear it.'

'This is not jest, Lord Earl. I am Magir, leader of the Cheiam, and if you do not move you will find yourself in the Halls of the Dead once more.'

'Move where?'

'Out of the city. Tonight. We have a camp higher in the range where you will be safe.' A slight scratching noise came from beyond the window, like a rope rubbing on stone. 'Too late!' whispered Magir. 'They are here. Get your sword!'

Scaler scrambled across the bed, dragging his blade from its scabbard. A dark shadow leapt through the window but Magir intercepted it, his curved dagger flashing upwards. A terrible scream rent the silence of the night. As two more assassins clambered into the room, Scaler screamed at the top of his voice and leapt forward, swinging the sword. It hammered into flesh and the man fell without a sound. Scaler tripped over the body just as a dagger flashed over his head but rolled onto his back, thrusting his blade into the man's belly. With a grunt of pain he staggered back and pitched out of the window.

'Magnificent!' said Magir. 'Never have I seen the tumbler's roll so brilliantly executed. You could be of the Cheiam yourself.'

Scaler sat back against the wall, sword dropping from nerveless fingers.

Pagan crashed open the door. 'Are you all right, Rek?' he said. Scaler turned to see the giant black man filling the doorway like an ebony statue, while the door itself sagged on broken hinges.

'You could have merely opened it,' said Scaler. 'Gods, the drama around here is killing me!'

'Speaking of which,' said Pagan, 'I have just killed two men in my room. Belder is dead — they cut his throat.'

Scaler pushed himself to his feet. 'They killed him? Why?'

'You shamed the prince,' said Magir. 'He must kill you — he has no choice.'

'And what of the spirit of Joachim? What was the point of bringing him back?'

'I cannot answer that, Lord Earl. But you must leave now.'

'Leave? He killed my friend — probably the only friend I ever had. He was like a father to me. Get out and leave me alone — both of you!'

'Don't do anything foolish,' warned Pagan.

'Foolish: It's all foolish. Life is a farce — a stupid, sickening farce played out by fools. Well, this is one fool who has had enough. So get out!'

Scaler dressed swiftly, buckling on his sword-belt and taking his blade in his hand. Moving to the window, he leaned out. A rope swung in the night breeze and Scaler took hold of it, leaping from the window and sliding hand-over-hand to the courtyard below.

Four guards watched him in silence as he landed lightly on the marble flagstones. He walked out into the centre of the courtyard and stared up at the windows of the prince's chamber.

'Prince of cowards, come forth!' he shouted. 'Prince of lies and deceit, show yourself. Joachim said you were a sheep. Come out!'

The sentries exchanged glances but did not move.

'I am alive, prince. The Earl of Bronze is alive! All your assassins are dead and you are about to join them. Come out — or I will shrivel your soul where you hide. Come out!'

The curtains of the window moved and there stood the prince, his face flushed and angry. He leaned on the carved stone sill and shouted to the sentries.

'Kill him!'

'Come and do it yourself, you jackal!' yelled Scaler. 'Joachim called me his friend and so I am. In your own temple you heard him, yet you send assassins to my room. You spineless pig! You defile your ancestor and break your own laws of hospitality. Offal! Get down here!'

'You heard me — kill him!' screamed the prince. The sentries moved forward, lances levelled.

Scaler lowered his sword, his bright blue eyes fixed on the leading warrior.

'I will not fight you,' he said. 'But what will you have me tell Joachim when next I meet him? And what will you tell him when you walk the road to Sheol?' The man hesitated as behind Scaler Pagan ran across the courtyard, two swords in his hands. Magir was beside him.

The sentries braced themselves for the charge.

'Leave him be!' yelled Magir. 'He is the Earl and his challenge is laid down.'

'Come down, prince of cowards,' shouted Scaler. 'Your time is come!'

The prince clambered over the sill and leapt the ten feet to the flagstones, his white robes flaring out in the breeze. Walking to a sentry he took the man's tulwar, testing it for balance.

'Now you will die,' said the prince. 'I know you are a liar. You are not the long-dead Earl — you are a deceiver.'

'Prove it!' snapped Scaler. 'Step forward. I am the greatest swordsman ever to walk the earth. I turned back the hordes of the Nadir. I broke the blade of Joachim Sathuli. Step forward and die!'

The prince licked his lips and stared into the blazing eyes. Sweat trickled down his cheeks and in that moment he knew he was doomed. Life was suddenly very precious and he was far too important a man to allow some demon from the deep to trick him into combat. His hand began to shake.

He felt the stares of his men upon him and glanced up to see the courtyard ringed with Sathuli warriors. And yet he was alone; not one of them would come to his aid. He had to attack, but to do so meant death. With a wild scream he threw himself forward, tulwar raised. Scaler buried his sword in the prince's heart, then dragged it clear and the body sagged to the flagstones.

Magir stepped to Scaler's side. 'Now you must leave. They will allow you to pass from the mountains, then they will follow to avenge this killing.'

'That's of no importance to me,' said Scaler. 'I came here to win them. Without them we are lost anyway.'

'You have the Cheiam, my friend. We will follow you back into Hell itself.'

Scaler looked down at the dead prince. 'He didn't even try to fight — he just ran forward to die.'

'He was a dog and the son of a dog. I spit on him!' said Magir. 'He was not worthy of you, Lord Earl, though he was the greatest swordsman in all of Sathuli.'

'He was?' said Scaler, astonished.

'He was. But he knew you were a greater man and the knowledge destroyed him before your sword could do so.'

'The man was a fool. If he only. .'

'Rek,' said Pagan, 'it is time to leave. I will fetch the horses.'

'No. I want to see Belder buried before we leave this place.'

'My men will see to it,' said Magir. 'But your friend speaks wisely and I will have horses brought to the courtyard. It is only an hour to our camp, where we can rest and speak of your plans.'

'Magir!'

'Yes, my Lord.'

'I thank you.'

'It was my duty, Lord Earl. I thought I would hate this duty, for the Cheiam bear no love for Drenai warriors. But you are a man.'

Tell me, what are the Cheiam?'

'We are the Drinkers of Blood, the sons of Joachim. We worship only one god: Shalli, the spirit of Death.'

'How many of you are there?'

'One hundred only, Lord Earl. But judge us not by our number. Rather, watch the numbers of dead we leave behind us.'